Wil payed the man and left. He looked at his purchase. hmph, another worthless, rusted set. He thought to himself. He'd just purchased the fourth set of armor in less than two days and all four sets were rusty and wouldn't do for his next job as a mercenary. I'm supposed to fight that guy in this worthless junk? Wil thought. He got back to the shack he was renting. He threw the armor on a chair and stood there. For a fourteen year old, he made a very good living as a mercenary. Kagraign, are you still well out there? He thought. Yes, I've found an oasis out here with all the food and water I could want. Stay as long as you like. Kagraign replied. Wil threw off the dark cloak he'd adorned since coming to this desert city and slumped onto his bed. Not very many people here liked mercenaries, for most of them were brigands of thugs bought by Galbatorix to keep power in the desert. Wil had always protested to everyone who knew him that he'd work for anyone but Galbatorix, but most failed to see the big picture. Just then, a figure walked into Wil's shack. Wil stood and put his hand on Mor'ranr out of habit. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Ioksok was walking through the desert, it seemed much more populated now then only a few years ago. So he did not fly. He looked more a begger than a great dragon rider, his hair was long and matted, his beard was long, his clothes were raged and full of holes.
Ioksok walked up the crest of a small dune, and shifted his huge pack. He looked down at a small town and wondered what he might find their. A fight, a freind, or a job.
Withing minutes Ioksok was walking through the town he came to a small shack and walked inside, thinking no living thing would live there. He heard some one say "Can I help You?" and looked at a boy in the back of the shack, his hand on his sword.
"Actualy, yes would you mind if I stayed here with you?"